


You Are Not Alone

by MissAppropriation



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Amnesia, Bullying, Chameleon Arch, Episode: s03e11 Utopia, Fobwatched Time Lord, Gen, Horror, Loss of Identity, Lost children, Nightmares, Original Character(s), Orphans, Past Lives, Prequel, Protectiveness, Repressed Memories, Starting Over, Time War (Doctor Who), Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-11-02 10:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20714210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAppropriation/pseuds/MissAppropriation
Summary: Out of options, the Master runs from the Time War and becomes human. A new person in an unfamiliar, fading Universe. Characters: Tiny Master, Yana, the TARDIS, OC. Gen.





	You Are Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Ok friends, this one comes with a **content warning**:
> 
> \- This contains some VERY (imo) disturbing imagery. Because, in case you have forgotten, the Master has been through some pretty horrifying stuff.  
\- There is a bullying/child abuse moment, because there are people out there who like to pick on those who can't defend themselves... One of these types found his way into my story. Though he only got as far as verbal bullying. (Because other people are good and one of those found her way into my story as well.)
> 
> This is a very sad topic and there's no way to sugarcoat it without going Full AU. Sadly, Canon didn't give me a lot of options in terms of lightening this up. HOWEVER... I did try to include as much balance as I could. But I would still categorize this as a Sad Story, overall. :'( (It was very hard to write!!)
> 
> One final note:  
This will make more sense to you if you have read some of my previous fics. Floor 507 (specifically Chapter 11, which is fairly standalone) and any Time War Team Series. But also, you could probably read it on its own, just having watched Utopia? Ehh, up to you. :)
> 
> Ok, here you go...

**You Are Not Alone**

  
The Master reached up with his key to open the TARDIS doors. The sobs wracking his small body and the tears blurring his vision made it difficult to fit the key into the lock.

Then he was inside, closing the door behind him, wrapped in the aura of safety.

That safety was a lie.

_ ‘Little One, what is wrong?’ _

She sounded concerned. But she must have known... 

She was complicit.

They'd  _ used _ him.

They  _ all  _ had.

The Time Lords, the TARDIS, the Doctor...

He felt like such a  _ fool _ for trusting any of them.

But he still needed the TARDIS' help to escape.

Because if he didn't run, he would die.

And he already knew what dying was like... It wasn't something he was in a hurry to repeat.

_ "Take me away." _

_ ‘Where to, Little One?’ _

_ "Far. As far as you can go." _

_ ‘What is happening, Little One? You have shut me out of your thoughts... Why? Let me see.’ _

The Master screwed his blue eyes shut, feeling her searching, seeking. 

He wanted to let her in... 

But of course he did. They had made him dependent. Made him a child. Put thoughts and feelings into his head which weren't his. 

And then they'd  _ lied _ to him. Pretended to care for him.

And he'd  _ believed _ . He’d believed that lie with all his hearts.

He’d thought he had friends, thought his sense of belonging had been real. He’d thought he had a family, a home.

It was something he'd never expected to feel again, not in a thousand lifetimes.

As paradoxical as it seemed, there were days in the midst of the Time War which had been some of the happiest in his life. 

But he'd been deceived, betrayed.

He wasn't family. These weren't his friends. He was just a tool, another weapon in their arsenal.

To be used and then discarded.

But even now, even with everything he'd learned, he still needed help...

It stung more than the tears.

But he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing his emotions. Not anymore.

This wasn't a negotiation.

The TARDIS was a person but she was also an instrument.

Just like him, it seemed...

Well, if they could use him, he could use her too.

He stepped up to the Console, moving from panel to panel, setting the familiar controls for the far distant future.

The end of the Universe was a time of despair, of rampant entropy, when all of reality was crumbling.

It seemed appropriate as his world ended around him.

And the Time Lords avoided the ends of Time and Space. They'd never look for him there.

He'd be safe, lost amid the chaos.

He pulled the lever to dematerialize.

It was a long journey.

The Master sank down under the Console, hands over his face, trying to control the storm of emotions.

He was afraid, confused, hurt... And so,  _ so _ angry.

He wanted to scream.

He felt the TARDIS brush against his mind again, gently.

_ ‘Little One, where is the Doctor?’ _

_ "I don't know. I don't care." _

_ ‘What are you running from?’ _

_ "From everything." _

Because he now knew that's what he was up against.  _ Everything.  _ Everyone.

The TARDIS landed with a solid  _ thunk _ .

The Master stood up, set the Fast Return Switch.

They could trace the TARDIS… So he'd send her back. She and the Doctor could continue on with their precious War. 

He'd be stranded here once she was gone.

But it didn't matter.

Anywhere was better than Gallifrey, better than the Time War.

He moved to open the doors, and that's when he realized...

If they could trace the TARDIS, they could certainly trace him as well.

He sank to the floor with a groan, his hearts beating loudly in his ears. 

He couldn't think.

He was  _ afraid. _

_ "They're going to kill me..." _

He could feel the TARDIS around him, like a mother's hug.

_ "I don't know what to do..." _

_ ‘Let me help.’ _

He laughed derisively through the tears.

_ "I think I've had enough of your help." _

She responded kindly, as always. Her patience was disgustingly inexhaustible.

_ ‘You need to hide. Yes?’ _

_ "Yes." _

_ ‘You are not the first who has needed to hide.’ _

He looked up at the mechanical sound from above him. A crown-like device was hanging from the ceiling.

The Master stood up to examine it.

He realized what it was for, remembered the Doctor talking about it...

"Chameleon Arch..." he said aloud.

A device created by the Doctor to rewrite Time Lord biology into that of a human.

Because the Time Lords had forced all of their renegades back for the Time War. But the Doctor would never permit his granddaughter to be put in danger like that.

For a moment, the Master felt just a twinge of jealousy. He shoved it back downwards. Because there was really no comparison to be made there.

And because the thought of Susan in the War was truly nauseating to him, as it must have been to the Doctor.

Thankfully, Susan was safe out in the Universe, somewhere. Or a human version of her, anyway.

In the old days, the High Council hadn't had much concern with renegades, seldom went to the trouble of tracking them down. Renounce your Gallifreyan name, be reasonably careful about openly contravening the Laws of Time and you were pretty much free to do as you pleased. 

But once the War had started, everything changed.

Gallifrey had honed and weaponized their means of finding their stray children.

The Time Lords could track TARDISes, follow telepathic traces, detect Time Lord biology...

_ "What will this do to me?" _

_ ‘You will be someone else.’ _

The Master sneered at the irony. Because it seemed he hadn't really been himself for a very long time.

_ "And?" _

_ ‘And you will be safe.’ _

The Master considered.

He didn't really have another option...

It was so hard to think.

The fury of emotions overwhelmed him. His hearts pounded, over and over.

_ One. Two. Three. Four. _

A part of him wanted to give up, to return to the War, to keep fighting until it was all over...

The veil of complacency shredded, the Master finally, instinctively recognized that compulsion for what it was.

He smiled... And  _ refused _ , shutting the foreign loyalty down.

And just for that one moment, he  _ almost _ felt like himself again.

Because  _ this _ was how it should be, how it always had been.

The Master…

Alone against the Universe...

And the Universe didn't stand a chance.

In the old days, he had been well acquainted with betrayal. It wasn't such a big deal, really. Allies were a necessary part of any plan. Temporary, disposable.

Betrayal was just a part of doing business.

So if the TARDIS wanted to help... Why not?

_ "Very well." _

_ ‘When it is safe, I will come back for you.’ _

As foolish as it was, the Master felt himself comforted by that. He disregarded the feeling, knowing it was a trick.

He'd be fine on his own.

He always had been before.

Then he remembered the Doctor... The Doctor would try to find him, try to drag him back to the War.

But the TARDIS wanted to help, right?

_ "Don't tell him where I am. He'll ask but you can't tell him." _

_ ‘I will keep your secret.’ _

_ "Promise me." _

He let a sliver of a crack open in his mind, allowing just a hint of the emotion he was hiding to leak out. So she knew how desperate he was. So she would do what he asked.

_ ‘Yes, Little One, I promise.’ _

_ "Good." _

_ ‘It will hurt.’ _

"What else is new..." he muttered, setting the controls, adjusting the watch securely within the device. Life was pain. He was used to pain.

He set the device on his head and switched it on.

He understood immediately why the TARDIS had warned him about the pain. It was some of the worst he had ever felt.

The Master screamed in agony as he was ripped from his own body.

He wondered if Susan had screamed...

And then he was gone.

He was nothing.

The body left behind swayed unsteadily. A brand new person. A blank slate.

A kind voice echoed inside his empty head.

_ ‘Take the Watch, Little One.’ _

He did.

_ ‘Leave your clothes. They might be traced.’ _

He took off his suit and tie. Left them carefully folded on the couch.

There was a key. 

He let it fall to the floor. It meant nothing to him.

_ ‘Take your blanket, Little One. You will have to go outside. It will be cold.’ _

He took the blanket off the couch, wrapped it around his shoulders.

The doors opened.

_ ‘Soon, you will remember who you are now. I could not give you much. I do not know this Time or place... But it will be enough for you to adapt.’ _

Something stirred in his vacant, traumatized mind.

"Don't go," the boy begged.

_ ‘I must. You will not be safe if I stay.’ _

"I don't want to be alone," he whimpered, staring out at the big, empty Universe fearfully. It looked far from welcoming.

_ ‘You will not be alone. You and I are still connected. But I will have to go far away from you. And you will have to hide.’ _

"Hide..." he repeated. That sounded right.

_ ‘Time to go, Little One.’ _

She pushed him gently into the world outside.

He turned to look back as the doors closed. She was blue, a big blue box.

"Will you come back?" the nameless boy asked, shivering in the wind. A storm was blowing up.

_ ‘Yes, Little One. When it is safe, I will come back for you.’ _

"But what if I go somewhere you can't find me?" he worried. "What if I get lost?"

_ ‘You will never be lost because I will know where you are. And wherever you run, I will always find you, my Little One.’ _

He nodded, reassured. Finding himself too exhausted to think of any more questions, he wrapped the blanket tightly around himself and lay down on the barren, silvery ground. He clutched the Watch close. It whispered words he couldn't quite hear or understand.

He felt one last brush against his mind. Like a caress, like a kiss. He blinked sleepily as the blue box groaned out of existence. Like a dream, immediately forgotten. Gone as if it had never been there to begin with.

He could almost feel it hurtling away from him. So fast, so far...

He drifted off, falling into a deep slumber on the cold ground. New memories arrived, quietly taking the place of the ones stored safely within the Watch.

The storm crept closer and it started to rain. Silver drizzle splattering in the silver dust. 

Still he slept.

He barely stirred as the ship landed.

He heard footsteps, voices, but they seemed so far away... Someone lifted him. Set him down someplace soft and warm.

They tried to take the Watch out of his hand. He gripped it tighter.

They talked about him. At first, he couldn't understand. But gradually, the words started to make sense.

"There are no other ships in the area. How did he get all the way out there?"

"Maybe he walked?"

Someone touched his foot. It tickled. He twitched it away.

"Without shoes? His feet would be all torn up."

"Well, maybe he can satisfy your curiosity when he wakes up. Are you sure you don't want to put him in with the rest of the refugees? Won't you need your bed?"

"He shouldn't be in with that chaos. You know how crowded it is in there. We don’t know what he’s been through… Let's give him a little space to adjust before we subject him to that."

The voices faded away again.

Some time later, he woke up.

He looked around, trying to get his bearings.

It was a small room.

The walls were metal but slightly mottled, the color varying between warm gray and sepia brown.

He stood up, pulling the blanket with him. He could feel the hum of engines through the floor.

He closed his eyes, comforted by the sensation. It reminded him of something but he couldn't place it.

There was a desk with a chair pulled away from it. Above the desk was fastened a single picture. A photograph of a woman with four children, all different ages. 

He touched the photo, gently. They looked happy... 

But the picture was old, faded.

He frowned and turned away.

They had left him a set of clothes, folded and set on the chair by the desk. When he reached out to take them, they were soft, worn. Like the rest of this place.

He left the clothes and wandered to the door at the far end of the room. It led to a spartan bathroom.

The mirror was too high for him to see into. For some reason, he needed to know what he looked like...

He dragged the chair into the bathroom.

He stood on it, squinting at his own reflection.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected to see but the face was familiar. Blue eyes, brown hair, light skin. Nothing unusual.

His hair was a mess.

Automatically, he reached up and tried to rearrange it into some semblance of order.

He got down off the chair and dressed in the clothes they had left for him.

He went back to take the mirror down from the bathroom wall. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring into it.

It didn't have the answers he was searching for. But then, he wasn't even certain what the questions were.

He felt adrift.

He waited patiently for someone to come and help him. To tell him what to do next.

Eventually, the door cracked open, quietly. A woman poked her head in, then straightened up in surprise when she saw he was awake. "Oh, you're up. I wasn't sure how long you'd sleep."

He just looked at her, unsure of what she wanted from him.

She seemed to reconsider her approach. She smiled warmly and came closer, cautiously, kneeling down to his eye level.

Her eyes were a warm gray, like the walls of the room. Her deep brown skin had the first lines of middle age, close-cropped dark hair just starting to show a few sparks of silver.

She was wearing an oil-stained coverall. He reached out to touch her sleeve. It had once been dark blue but was faded with time and use.

It made him think of something. Something beautiful and comforting. Something far away...

He looked up to see the woman was watching him curiously. "Sorry, it's been a while since I was around kids…” she said. “I'm Brynne. What's your name, little guy?"

He had to think about it. It was just out of reach. "Yana," he concluded after a couple moments.

Brynne looked perplexed. "Unusual name," she muttered quietly.

The boy just blinked at her. "Is it?" he asked. Something stirred in the back of his muddled brain. Something left there for him to find. "I think... I think it stands for something..."

"How do you mean?" Brynne asked.

He frowned in concentration. "I think it's the letters..." he said vaguely.

"Like... An acronym?" Brynne asked. Her tone was judgemental. "Nothing wrong with that!" she hastily backtracked. "Just... I wouldn't name my kids with an acronym."

"Why not?" Yana asked, genuinely interested. His brain was so empty. It longed to be filled.

"Cause…” she struggled for a moment. “Names are important. It's a little... Well,  _ mean _ , I guess. Like a prank."

Yana looked at her seriously. "Not if it means something nice."

Brynne froze. Then, slowly, she smiled. She chuckled low in her throat, like she wasn't used to laughing. "Smart kid. You're absolutely right."

He smiled back at her. She seemed nice.

"You wanna tell me how you got out there?" Brynne asked, reaching up to swipe at his arm in an awkward attempt at physical contact.

"Out where?" he frowned.

"We found you outside, in the storm." Seeing his confusion, she continued more gently. "Do you remember that, being outside?"

He closed his eyes. When he tried to think back everything just went blank. "It was... Cold," he remembered.

"Yeah, you were half frozen by the time we found you," she informed him. She shook her head and changed the subject. "Do you have a mum or dad somewhere?"

"Uhhh..." Yana tried to think but his brain was so slow. Had thinking always been this hard? "Yes. Wait... No." He gave up with a shrug, unconcerned. "I can't remember."

"Ok..." Brynne sighed. "That's ok. I was just wondering if there was anyone out there looking for you."

He thought of a woman's voice, of an older man with patient, kind eyes. But they were far away. When he tried to remember them, they vanished into the blank. "No, I think it's just me now."

"Alright then," she said, standing. "You're not exactly the first orphan onboard this ship. We'll set you up with a bunk a little later. You hungry?"

Once she said it, he realized he was starving. "Yes. Do you have food?"

She smiled and held out a hand. He took it instinctively, trustingly. "Yes, we have food. I don't know if it's what you're used to but we'll find you something good."

Brynne took him through the corridors of the ship. She was tall and walked fast. He had to half-run to keep up with her. 

Part of his brain knew the ship was enormous. He wasn't sure how he knew that. Or how he knew that it wasn't built for speed.

"What do you carry on this ship?" he asked the woman next to him.

She looked down, surprised. "People," she answered after a moment. "Refugees. How did you know this was a freighter ship?"

"Refugees," he repeated. He was a refugee. "What are they running from?" Maybe it was the same thing he was running from.

"Dying stars, cold planets..." she shrugged. "It's the end of the Universe."

Yana realized he knew that. He nodded. "Entropy," he said somberly.

Brynne snorted a laugh, tried to cover it with a cough. "Yeah, entropy."

A burst of static disrupted the quiet hum of the ship's corridor, startling Yana. He jumped.

"It's ok!" Brynne reassured him. "It's just my radio." She showed him the communicator clipped to her belt. "Hold on a second."

She spoke into the radio. "What's up? I'm off duty."

A garbled reply came through the device. Yana could barely pick out a few words but Brynne seemed to understand. Her eyes went wide in horror and she covered her face in aggravation.

"Gosh... damn it," she grumbled. She pressed the button on the radio again. "Ok, I'm coming down. Just... Don't touch anything!"

She clipped the radio back to her belt and moved to go. Then she caught sight of the little boy watching her silently and grimaced guiltily. Yana's brain was starting to work again. He intuited that she'd forgotten all about him.

He wasn't especially bothered by that.

Brynne seemed to be, however. She looked up and down the hallway, torn. "Alright," she said abruptly. "Come on. Looks like you're getting a tour of the engine room."

She took his hand again and dragged him at an even faster pace than before down multiple hallways and into a oil-soaked freight elevator. She sighed angrily as she punched the lowest button.

"I can't leave for  _ an hour _ ," she grumbled. She saw Yana watching her and elaborated. "They're always screwing stuff up when I'm not there."

Yana nodded sagely. People did that.

The elevator shuddered to an ungraceful halt on the lowest floor.

Brynne marched out the instant the doors creaked open, leaving Yana behind.

He watched as she berated the two techs. She was aggressive and they were immediately on the defensive. Yana laughed to himself. It was funny to watch… But he already knew how this scene would end.

He wandered out into the engine room. It was furnace-hot and smelled. And it was  _ huge _ .

Gargantuan machinery filled the space, making it impossible to see how large the area truly was.

Yana wandered between the towering equipment. The noise was discordant, raucous, overwhelming. But he found it oddly comforting. There was a rhythm to it, a language.

He closed his eyes and just  _ listened _ .

He let it wash over him, let it drown out his thoughts, filling the emptiness inside of him.

_ Clank. _

Yana frowned.

_ Cl-clank. _

That wasn't right.

He looked around, trying to find the source of the unpleasant clanking.

He heard it again, followed the noise to a vented panel hidden behind three other enormous machines.

_ Clank. _

He stared at the panel, making a face at the sound.

It was instinctive, a reflex.

He pried the panel off and looked inside.

Nothing had made sense to him all day. He couldn't remember anything before the cold of the storm. Nothing was familiar. Even his own name seemed alien.

But this...  _ This _ made sense.

He smiled.

Yana crawled into the guts of the machine in search of the problem. Because he  _ knew _ if he could find the malfunction he could definitely fix it.

It was the first moment of certainty he could recall.

He lost all track of time as he tweaked connections and troubleshot.

He was nearly finished when someone dragged him out unceremoniously by his borrowed shirt.

Brynne's angry face appeared in front of his own. "What are you doing?" she shouted over the din of the engines.

He shrank away from her harsh tone but pointed behind him at the panel. "It was broken," he tried to explain. Brynne shook her head impatiently, unable to hear. She put her ear closer. "I'm almost done," he shouted. She looked at him, puzzled. He was unsure but wanted to finish his work. "Can I just..." He gestured again towards the machine.

Brynne shot him a dubious look and went to inspect the interior of the machine in question.

When she turned back around, her face wore a mix of admiration and incredulity.

She stood aside, waved Yana back to the machine. "Go ahead," she said.

He didn't wait for her to change her mind, diving back inside the engine and put the finishing touches on his repairs.

Yana closed his eyes, satisfied as he listened to it singing in perfect chorus with the rest of the ship.

He came out, smiling up proudly at Brynne. She gave him a strangely calculating smile in return and held out her hand. He reached up to take it and realized his own was covered in oil and engine grime. Distractedly, he tried to wipe it off on his trousers. A rag waved in front of his face. He blinked up at Brynne and took the rag from her.

He wiped the worst of the grime off and tried to give the rag back to Brynne. She shook her head. "Keep it," she said.

He stuffed it into his pocket. There was already something in there, small and round.

He didn't wonder what it was.

Yana took Brynne's outstretched hand and they made their way out of the engine room and through the corridors of the ship until they reached what seemed to be a dining hall.

Brynne grabbed a tray and chose an assortment of items. She took him to a table.

He stared at the food in front of him for a moment, scanning for familiarity. He didn't find it but quickly realized that he didn't care. Food was food and his stomach was growling ferociously.

He ate quickly while Brynne watched him. She waited until he slowed down.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" she asked curiously.

He looked up at her, wide-eyed. She'd obviously been wanting to ask this since the engine room.

His gaze wandered as he tried to place a memory that might be useful. Again, he hit that blank void. A solid wall of fog. It pushed him back into the present.

"I don't know," he shrugged, returning to his tray of food. "It just wasn't working right and I wanted to fix it."

"We didn't even know it was broken," Brynne said.

He frowned in surprise. "Really? It sounded  _ terrible _ ."

"Huh," Brynne said with that analytical smile. "Tell you what, finish that up. I want to show you something."

He ate until his plate was clean. Brynne waited patiently, then took him down more hallways to another elevator, nicer than the last. This time they went up instead of down.

The elevator doors opened to reveal what Yana recognized as the bridge of the spaceship. Uniformed staff were bustling around, busy with their daily tasks.

There was an enormous window above the massive control panels. A wall of glass.

Yana stood poised on his toes, wanting to see. He looked up at Brynne for permission.

"Go on," she nodded.

He let go of her hand and ran towards the window.

The control panels were too high and blocked his view. He tried unsuccessfully to make himself taller to see outside. Failing, he sighed in frustration. He felt a pair of hands under his arms. Brynne lifted him and set him down on the solid metal top of the control panels.

His head was slightly above hers now. Yana straightened up a little. He liked being tall.

He gazed out at the Universe, looking for something... He wasn't sure what.

Whatever it was, he didn't find it.

The sky was dark. Black and empty. Only a few faint pinpricks of starlight broke through the void.

The Universe was empty, as blank and featureless as his own mind.

"What happened to it all?" he asked Brynne.

She had her hands around his chest, holding him to make sure he didn't fall. He felt her shrug. "Time kills everything eventually. You and I were just unlucky enough to come in at the end."

He reached out towards the window, imagining a Universe bright with more stars than he could even count. An ocean of light. Every speck of stardust with a name of its own. "Don't you miss them?"

"Miss what?" she asked.

"The stars..." he said. More than just the stars. Someone who had loved the stars.

Not him... Someone else.

A friend.

"It's been like this forever,” Brynne said. “The stars are just stories. They say the whole Universe was full at one point. But that was so long ago even my great-great-great grandmother didn't know anyone who had seen it." 

Yana looked at her, confused. Because he  _ remembered _ the stars. He was sure he did... And he wasn't sure about much right now. She misunderstood the reason for his confusion. 

"You can't miss what you never had," she told him. There was a bitterness to her tone.

Yana's eyes searched the blackness. "I think you  _ can _ ," he said sadly.

He didn't see the look she gave him.

"Alright," she said, gripping him tighter and lifting him off his perch. "Down you come. I want to show you something."

She took him to one of the central consoles. The crew members gave them some odd glances but Brynne stared brazenly right back at them. They didn't say or do anything to stop her.

Clearly, she had the run of the place.

Instinctively, Yana stayed close.

She pointed out a block of machinery and stood back, hands on her hips.

Yana looked at it curiously. “What's it for?”

“You tell me,” Brynne replied simply.

He smiled at the challenge, walked closer. He inspected the system carefully, methodically. It was complicated, unfamiliar. And yet…

“Navigation?” he realized.

Brynne's mouth twitched. Otherwise, her face was still but her gaze was approving. “And?” she asked. “Anything else?”

“Probably,” Yana said, turning back to the machine. He quickly found the service panel on the front and opened it up to look inside.

It was a tangle of blinking lights, a complex computer system with controls that ran down through the floor into the belly of the ship.

It took him a minute to figure out what it was all for. “Gravity?” he called up to Brynne from inside the machine. “You navigate using  _ gravity _ ?”

“Yep!” she answered. She was grinning at him proudly. “There's no other way, really. Not a lot left out there besides dark matter pockets and gravitational anomalies. Does it look familiar to you?”

“No…” He sat back from the machine, shaking his head. “Not at all,” he told her. “But… That’s so _ cool _ .”

Brynne was suddenly concerned. “Is it? It shouldn't be…” She knelt next to him, put out a hand to feel the machine.

It took Yana a second to realize she'd thought he meant  _ literally _ cool. He shook his head. “No, I mean… It's  _ amazing _ .”

She looked at him, amused. “Cool, eh? Is that what the kids are saying nowadays?”

Yana shrugged. “Maybe.”

Brynne gave him a piercing stare. “You really don't remember anything?”

He tried to think about it. It was actually even blurrier than when he'd woken up in Brynne's room earlier.

He came up with nothing.

Then he realized he didn't  _ want _ to remember anything.

The present was what mattered. His memories, whatever they had been, wouldn't help his current situation.

Whoever he had been before, that was over.

And somehow, he was convinced that it was  _ safer _ this way.

“No,” he told Brynne. “Nothing.”

She frowned at his obvious complacency. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

He shrugged. “Not really.” He looked at her, worried. “Is that  _ bad _ ?”

Brynne laughed at him. “No, that's fine.”

He pointed at the navigational system. “Do you want me to help you fix this now?”

“Uhh…” She laughed again. “You figured out it's broken, did you?”

He eyed the machine's insides dubiously. “You can't be getting  _ anywhere _ you want to go with this mess.”

“No, we haven't,” Brynne confirmed. She didn't seem offended. “It's been like that for a few months now. We just don't have the parts.”

He stared at her. “You don't need parts.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“It's fine,” he told her. “It just needs recalibrating.”

“You sure about that?” she asked.

This seemed like a strange question to Yana. He wouldn't have said so if he wasn't sure. He just nodded.

“Find me the nearest black hole,” he instructed vaguely. “Then it should only take a couple of hours…”

“What's going on here, exactly?” An officer had walked up. The few pieces of metal on his uniform were polished to a dazzling shine. His gaze fell on everyone around him reluctantly, as if offended to be dragged down below with the commoners.

Yana disliked him immediately.

Brynne also seemed to dislike him. Her manner didn't leave much room for doubt there.

“For the  _ ten thousandth _ time, the engines of this ship are my business,” she said impatiently. She towered over him, arms crossed, purposefully intimidating.

“And the bridge is  _ my _ business,” he responded with a sneer. “In case you hadn't noticed, you are currently on the bridge.”

“Yes, to repair the navigation,” Brynne retorted, unphased. She turned to Yana. “Tell him.”

He'd lost the thread of the conversation, distracted by the open animosity in their exchange. “Tell him what?” he asked.

Brynne was patient. “About recalibrating.”

Yana looked the unpleasant man up and down. Something in him recognized this man’s attitude. Closed-minded, arrogant, an expert at nothing besides using others…

“He won’t understand,” Yana declared dismissively.

Brynne laughed aloud as the man’s face turned bright red.

But then the man lashed out, moving forward towards the boy aggressively. “Now, you listen to me, you little  _ brat _ , I’m the first officer of this vessel -”

As Yana shrank away from the bully, Brynne quickly got between them. “Hey!” she barked, shoving the man backwards. “You leave him alone. He’s just trying to help.”

The man wanted to fight back but was too afraid of the fire in Brynne’s eyes. “I won’t be spoken to in that tone my own bridge,” he hissed.

“Right, well you have a whole staff your own size to abuse. How about you leave the kid alone? Or do you prefer people who can’t fight back?” She glared at him. 

He backed down.

“Very well,” he grumbled. “So tell me about these repairs you want to do.” He was still addressing Brynne.

She stood aside and gestured towards Yana. “It’s his idea, you’ll have to ask him.”

The officer sniffed. His face wore pure contempt. “You want to recalibrate our navigational systems? What makes you think we’d let a  _ child _ do something like that?”

Brynne smiled encouragingly. “Tell him. Tell him your plan.”

“I wouldn’t call it a  _ plan _ ...” Yana said, watching the officer uncomfortably. It seemed a bit rudimentary to be termed a “plan.”

Brynne got down on the floor in front of him. “Ok, whatever you want to call it. Your idea. Go on,” she encouraged.

Yana glanced at the officer again and lowered his voice to a whisper, afraid of making him angry again. “But he won’t  _ get it _ .”

Brynne gave the man a warning glare as he snorted. She smiled at Yana. “Then explain it to  _ me _ . Ignore him,” she said with a dismissive gesture. “Tell  _ me _ how to recalibrate the navigational systems.”

Yana wasn’t sure he liked this level of attention. It seemed like a lot of pressure…

But it was a  _ good _ idea. And he wanted to help.

He started to explain the process, step by step.

Brynne listened intently. Occasionally, she’d ask a question. They were  _ smart _ questions.

At some point, Yana realized that he was enjoying himself.

Eventually, Brynne nodded, her expression thoughtful.

She reached for her radio. “Hey, it’s Brynne. Could you send Zepp and Cortello up here? Thanks.”

“Are we doing it  _ now _ ?” Yana asked, slightly alarmed. He wasn’t quite ready for that. There were still details to work out.

“The answer to that had better be  _ no _ ,” the first officer said.

Yana looked around, startled. He’d totally forgotten the man was there. The officer was staring at him. There was something like envy in his eyes. Or something like hatred. 

It was intense, ugly. Yana was transfixed by it.

Because he  _ recognized _ it. Somehow, he almost  _ understood _ it.

All day, he’d been searching for familiarity. But this… His brain squirmed away from it.

It made him think things he didn’t want to, like whispers, voices in his head which weren’t his own…

They told him to strike first, that this man was an obstacle easily removed…

_ Electrocution from an equipment malfunction? Or a little airlock accident, perhaps… _

Plans, strategies. Things he hadn’t asked for popping into his head from nowhere.

He put his hands to his ears and closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut out the darkness.

There was a pounding in his head.

At first he thought it was his heartbeat, but the rhythm was all wrong.

He felt hands over his own, roughly textured but so gentle. He opened his eyes to see Brynne’s worried face. He realized he was crying.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What is it? Are you ok?”

As suddenly as the voices had come, they were gone again. Yana sniffed and nodded.

“My confidence overflows,” the officer said sarcastically. There was a cruel joy in his tone.

“How about you get out of here now, Gorman?” Brynne snapped. “Aren’t you due to be polishing your shoes or something?”

Yana glanced down at the man’s shoes. They were indeed very shiny.

“If you mean the duties of running the bridge, yes, I think you’ve kept me from those long enough.” He turned on his heel and walked off without another word.

Brynne leaned in closer to Yana. “Did he say something to you?” There was an edge of anger in her voice.

Yana shook his head. He opened his mouth to explain but couldn’t find the words. The experience had made no sense. He dismissed it. “No, I’m ok. It was… A headache or something.”

“Hm,” Brynne grunted. “Ok, then. Don’t worry about him, though. The Captain has all the real power. And he’s going to  _ love _ you.”

“Will he?” Yana asked with a frown.

“Definitely,” Brynne winked.

“Why?” Yana asked, mildly confused.

Before she could answer, Brynne was distracted by the sight of a man and woman who had appeared at the elevator. They looked out of place on the bridge, just as Brynne did. They’d clearly come up from the engine room. Brynne waved them over.

“Alright,” she said to Yana, businesslike. “Explain it to them. One more time.”

“Who’s the kid?” the man asked. He was about forty but looked older, tired. As if all the color had been washed out of him.

“Oh, I’m… I’m nobody,” Yana said, backing up a step.

“This is Yana, he’s new,” Brynne said, putting a hand on his back, halting his retreat. “And he’s going to be taking your job in a couple years, Zepp.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Yana said. He was somehow frightened by that idea. The last thing he wanted was a position of authority.

“I’m just kidding,” Brynne told Yana. “Sort of.”

Zepp sighed a long, sad sigh. “He can  _ have _ it...”

Brynne smirked. “I’ll put him on the payroll.”

“Where’d you come from, then?” the woman asked curiously. She was young, maybe in her late teens. Her hair was a mass of uncontrolled curls that seemed to have a will of their own.

“Outside, somewhere,” he replied timidly.

Brynne stepped in again. “Never mind that, he has an idea for fixing the nav systems.”

“We’ve all got  _ ideas _ ,” Zepp said wearily. “What we need is  _ parts _ .”

“He says we don’t,” Brynne replied. “Tell them.”

Yana shrank away from the new people shyly. Brynne kept putting him on the spot but he really wasn’t prepared for that. “It’s working fine,” he muttered quietly, “it just needs to be recalibrated.”

The young woman laughed, looking to Brynne incredulously. “You can’t  _ recalibrate _ a Grav-247 Navigation System.”

“He has a way,” Brynne responded simply.

“Wait…” Yana glanced between the three engineers. “Have you  _ never _ calibrated this system before?” 

None of them replied but their faces made the answer clear. 

“But... “ Yana shook his head, forgetting to be self-conscious in his horror at their ineptitude. “No _wonder_ you’re not getting where you need to go! Do you have any idea how delicate gravitational sensors are? You’re exposing them to a _massive_ range of levels on a daily basis! And you never thought they might need adjusting? It’s _basic_ _maintenance_!”

Brynne glanced at the others, vindicated. 

Cortello’s mouth was hanging open. “How do you know so much about gravity tech?” she asked finally.

Yana squinted. He was already getting used to not knowing how he knew things. “I learned it somewhere.”

“But you’re like  _ six _ !” she protested. “You can’t have any practical experience.”

Yana shrugged. “I think I do, though.”

“You  _ think _ ?” she cried.

Zepp was at the console, quietly inspecting the interior. He turned back to Yana. “Supposing you’re right about recalibrating. How would that work, exactly?”

Yana joined him at the console, started to explain. Cortello swiftly jumped in as well with her own questions. Yana pointed out the components, outlining the process, addressing their doubts one at a time.

He tried to be patient but it seemed like they were taking a  _ long _ time to get it...

Brynne stood back and watched silently, arms crossed, smiling.

Eventually Cortello leaned back on her heels. She looked at Zepp, then at Brynne. “This could actually  _ work _ ,” she said.

“It  _ will _ work,” Yana corrected her.

“Will Gorman allow it?” Zepp asked.

Brynne shrugged. “If he doesn’t, I’ll go over his head.”

Yana rubbed his eyes.

Brynne swooped in to pick him up. “Alright, I think that’s it for today’s lecture. Looks like it’s past the Professor’s bedtime.”

Yana didn’t protest. He was suddenly exhausted. He put his arms around Brynne’s neck and leaned his head against her shoulder.

“Any assignments to give the class?” Brynne asked.

“I mean, if they want to get started on the zero shift calculations…” he muttered sleepily.

Brynne laughed. “I was joking.”

“Oh,” Yana said, not getting the joke. “It does need to get done, though.”

“We’ll start tomorrow,” she announced. “Say goodnight, Professor.”

“Goodnight,” he waved. “Nice meeting you.”

As Brynne walked away and off the bridge, Yana saw the two engineers watching him go. 

“Sweet kid,” Cortello said. “I wonder what his story is?”

“Yeah,” Zepp agreed. “I thought the Universe had beaten  _ sweet _ out of all of us.”

The elevator door closed. Yana was half asleep by the time they made it to Brynne’s room. She tucked him into bed. 

He was out before the lights were.

There were voices around him. Whispers in the corners of his mind. They reached into his consciousness, pulling him from the dreamless darkness.

And he was falling.

Then he was  _ someone else _ .

Not Yana, someone with another story. A long, dark story.

He felt  _ hate _ . He didn’t even know it was possible to feel that much hatred… Enough hate to fill the whole Universe to overflowing.

And there was  _ pain _ . Excruciating, burning, all-encompassing, unending.

And he wanted to  _ kill _ . He wanted everyone to suffer as he was suffering.

But most of all, he wanted to  _ live _ .

He was dying.

No, not dying…

_ Already dead. _

He’d been murdered.

But he had refused to die.

_ Pain. _

He looked down at his hands.

They could scarcely be called hands anymore. Bloated, swollen, glistening. Raw nerves and tendons exposed to the cruel atmosphere.

The tiniest motion caused unendurable agony. Still, he moved, he breathed. Each breath was a force of will, a rebellion against the Universe.

His two hearts beat a rhythm in his ruined chest.

_ “I will live on… I will not die.” _

And he saw his face.

A mockery of a face.

He was a corpse.

Skin stripped away. Eyeballs protruding. Shreds of flesh clinging gruesomely to a living skull.

He tried to close his eyes against the horror… But he couldn’t.

His eyelids had been burned off.

Yana woke screaming.

He screamed until his lungs ran out of air and then he filled them just to scream again.

He felt someone touch him and struck out in the dark, feebly trying to fight against a world of pure terror.

Large hands grabbed his small ones, strong arms pulled him close, surrounding him like armor, protecting him from the outside.

He heard singing, soft and tuneless.

He realized where he was and opened his eyes. Brynne was holding him tightly, arms and legs creating a fortress of safety, her gruff voice singing a song he didn’t know. 

His throat hurt from screaming. His muscles ached from tension, shuddering uncontrollably with adrenaline.

Brynne stopped singing and spoke.

“It’s ok,” she said, stroking his hair. “It’s over. It was just a nightmare.”

Yana shook his head. Because he  _ knew _ somehow.

It hadn’t been a nightmare. What he had experienced had been  _ real _ , had really happened sometime long ago.

To him. 

But also  _ not _ to him.

He remembered the hatred. The desire for revenge.

He remembered wanting to kill… To kill  _ everyone _ .

He knew he needed help.

“I think,” he choked out hoarsely, “I think I need a doctor…”

Brynne didn’t waste a moment. Without loosening her grasp on him, she stood and strode out into the hallways of the ship.

Yana clung to her, buried his face in her clothes. He felt rage and shame and fear. He felt like a monster.

The doctor was somehow not what he had expected. A young man, kind but unfamiliar. Yana dropped his head back onto Brynne’s shoulder, feeling a strange wave of despair.

Brynne explained what she knew. Yana was reeling and was grateful that Brynne didn’t let go of him as the doctor examined him.

He couldn’t stop shaking.

“You have a lot of nightmares?” the doctor asked eventually. His face swam unsteadily in front of Yana’s vision. His skin had a reddish sheen and there were flecks of gold in his eyes.

Yana shook his head weakly. “I don’t know… I don’t think so.”

“Well, it must have been a doozy,” the doctor commented. He looked at Brynne. “He’s had quite a scare. He’s in shock.”

He grabbed a second blanket which Brynne wrapped around Yana.

“Why would this happen?” Brynne demanded, her voice low. “He’s just a kid, he shouldn’t be in shock from a dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Yana said quietly.

“Why do you say that?” the doctor asked.

Yana screwed his eyes shut against the bright lights overhead. “What if… What if there’s something  _ wrong _ with me?”

The doctor frowned slightly. “In what way?”

Yana was afraid to even give substance to his thoughts, as if speaking them aloud would make them true. His voice came out in a whisper. “I think I did something  _ bad _ …”

Brynne’s voice above him was weirdly irate. “How could you have done anything bad? You’re a  _ baby _ .”

The doctor ignored her, focusing on Yana. “You dreamed about doing something bad?”

Yana looked into the man's eyes, wishing he could understand, wishing he had answers instead of just questions. “I was someone else.” It was so hard to explain.

“Hm. Well, that’s not exactly unusual but your reaction certainly is.” He turned to Brynne again. “There are plenty of documented cases of psychic visions. He may have experienced a moment from someone else’s life.”

Yana hid his face in the blanket, thinking of the kind of life which would include a scene like that...

He felt sick.

“Alright,” Brynne said, still sounding angry, “obviously, he can’t go through that again, so what can we do about it?”

“That depends on his species…” the doctor said, pulling the blanket away from his face to examine him. “He’s human?”

“I assumed so,” Brynne said, “but actually... I have no idea.”

“He certainly  _ looks _ human,” the doctor said, “but appearances can often be deceptive.”

“I might not be human?” Yana asked with a frown. He was fairly certain he  _ was _ human. One of the things he knew without knowing how.

“It’s easily determined with a simple DNA scan,” the doctor assured them. “Only takes a moment.” He collected a small, hand-held device from a drawer nearby. He pulled out Yana’s hand and pressed the device to his arm, just below the wrist. “This might sting a bit,” he warned.

Yana felt a suction from the machine and then a flash of pain. Reflexively, he jerked his arm away. There was a small red mark on his pale skin.

“All done,” the doctor smiled. “You’re very brave. A lot of kids start crying.”

Yana lowered his gaze, remembering the pain from his dream. The DNA test was immeasurably small by comparison.

He felt Brynne’s hand on his head, smoothing his hair, trying to soothe him.

The doctor was standing a few feet away, reading results on a screen. “Human,” he announced. Then his brow furrowed as he kept scrolling. “Completely human.”

“Is something wrong?” Brynne asked anxiously.

“No, just…” The doctor didn’t seem alarmed, more bewildered. “We’re all a mix of races, bits and pieces of DNA accumulated over the generations. But I don’t see any of that here. He’s purely human.”

“Is that a problem?” Yana looked up at Brynne as she said this. She was frowning.

“No,” the doctor shrugged, “but it is... Unusual. I would have said  _ impossible _ , but extremely improbable is more accurate.”

“Is this relevant, somehow?” Brynne asked curtly.

The doctor eyed Yana curiously. “It could be… The chances of this occurring by accident are infinitesimally small.”

“You’re talking about genetic engineering,” Yana realized. “You’re saying someone  _ made _ me.”

The doctor looked at Brynne, startled.

“Yeah, should have warned you…” Brynne said wryly. “He’s not exactly your average six-year-old.”

“I’m starting to see that,” the doctor replied. He stood in front of them, arms crossed, considering carefully. “I have a couple of options. We could try a sedative to help you sleep.”

Yana shook his head. The thought of going through that again and being unable to wake up made him want to gag.

“We could also try a psychic blocker, in case you  _ are _ picking up signals from someone or something. If you want.” He looked at Yana directly, like his input actually mattered.

Yana hesitated, unsure of what the best course of action was.

Brynne leaned down towards him. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know…” he said. “Maybe I can just stay awake?” he wished.

Brynne snorted. “No offense, but that’s not your best idea ever.” She looked up at the doctor. “We’ll take the lowest doses of whatever you have. We can decide later,” she told Yana.

He nodded, too exhausted to argue.

Brynne collected the bottles of medicine from the doctor and stood to go. “Just let me know if you have any questions or if anything changes,” the doctor said.

“Thanks, doc,” Brynne said.

“Thank you, doctor,” Yana echoed.

Brynne carried him back to her quarters.

She set him up against the pillow and wrapped the blankets around him. She got him a glass of water and some crackers. “Drink, eat,” she ordered.

She sat and watched while he did.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked him eventually.

Yana shrugged. He wished there was a way to erase the whole experience. Ironic. He didn’t remember anything before today and already he wanted to start over again.

“Whatever you saw…” Brynne said carefully. “You know it wasn’t  _ you _ , right?”

Yana looked back at her, fearful. “But what if it  _ was _ ?” he asked quietly.

Brynne sighed and scooted closer. “Ok, say somehow, in some past life or whatever, you did something bad… What does that have to do with  _ you _ , here and now?”

He frowned. “It would mean I’m a bad person.”

“No, it means you  _ used _ to be a bad person,” Brynne retorted. She poked him in the chest, emphatically but not hard enough to hurt. “ _ You _ get to be whoever you want.”

He thought about it. She did have a point. One thing he was sure of, Yana was not the person he had dreamed of being…

That was  _ someone else _ .

But the hate, the murder… He’d  _ felt _ it. It had slipped into his soul with the presence of an old friend.

Like a destiny. 

Like a curse.

“So… You’re saying maybe I don’t  _ have _ to be bad?” He looked at Brynne, pleading, tears in his eyes. “Maybe I have a choice?”

She looked at him aghast. “ _ Of course _ you have a choice! Ok. Let me teach  _ you _ something, Professor. A lot of times, in life, we don’t get to choose. We can’t choose what other people think of us, or who our family is, or even our names, usually. That’s all out of our control. But what we  _ can _ control is who  _ we _ are. If you don’t like who you think you were… Be someone else.”

She made it sound so simple. 

He just had one question.

“Who should I be, then?” he asked, perplexed.

“That might be a bit too much to figure out tonight,” Brynne pointed out.

Yana nodded. “I’m afraid to go back to sleep,” he said quietly. He was terrified of what was waiting there for him, just past the realms of consciousness. What, or  _ who _ .

Brynne scooted up next to him on the bed, put her strong arm around his hunched shoulders. “I know,” she said. “But you do need to sleep.”

He sighed.

“What can I do to help you?” Brynne asked.

“Will you stay with me?” Part of him assumed she’d say no.

She leaned down to meet his avoidant gaze. “Of course I will.”

He could feel the weariness pulling at him. Unfightable.

The voices whispered judgmentally. 

_ Weak, human child...  _

“What if I have another nightmare?” he worried.

“Then I’ll wake you up,” Brynne said, stroking his hair. “Ok?”

“Promise?” he asked.

“Yes,” Brynne reassured him, “I promise. Close your eyes. Tell me about the repairs we’re going to do tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t  _ you _ be the one telling  _ me _ a story?” He’d had a very confusing day but he was fairly certain she’d gotten the roles reversed.

“Yeah, but… You seem like more of a talker than a listener,” she chuckled.

Yana frowned. “You don’t really know me.”

“That makes two of us then,” she reminded him. “But you seem like a good kid to me.”

He had his doubts. Because if he was so good, why had everyone abandoned him? Why this knowledge, deep in his bones, that something inside of him was just  _ wrong _ ?

He kept these thoughts to himself.

He talked about the navigation system, trying to drown out the whispers with his own voice.

Eventually he realized he was asleep.

The whispers surrounded him again, predatory, mocking...

_ “Surrender, child. You are nothing. You are no one.” _

He tried to block out the voices, the self-doubt.

But he was alone and vastly outnumbered...

He saw a light through the tangled, hostile darkness. A golden light, warm and safe.

It beckoned to him.

_ ‘This way, Little One…’ _

He found himself in a place he didn’t know. Well-lit, with round indentations in the walls.

He could feel that the golden light was here, though he couldn’t see it.

_ ‘I have found you a better memory, Little One.’ _

He was seated on the floor in a nest of wires, making repairs to some incomprehensible machinery.

He wasn’t alone.

There was a man next to him, also absorbed in the mess of technology.

Yana watched through the eyes which were his but not his.

The man was middle-aged. Calm, patient, brilliant, kind.

Yana wished he could be those things.

He and the man argued as they worked, like a call and response. Like the lyrics to a favorite song. Comfortable, friendly, familiar.

The man turned to reach behind him for a part, realized he’d confused himself. He pulled at another wire and discovered both his arms had become tangled.

Not-Yana started laughing.

The man spluttered, trying to get out of the mess he’d somehow made. Eventually, he stood, wires hanging off him, embarrassed and bemused.

The person who wasn’t Yana laughed so hard he fell over.

The man just smiled a long-suffering smile, spreading his technology-festooned arms helplessly.

_ ‘I cannot stop all the nightmares, Little One,’ _ came the woman’s voice.

Yana looked around but couldn’t see her. She was here too, though, somewhere. Watching and smiling.

_ ‘Try to find your way back to me when you are afraid. I will help where I can.’ _

The dream faded. And then it was morning.

Brynne exited the bathroom, rubbing her short hair with a towel.

“Morning, Professor,” she smiled. “Any more nightmares?”

He shook his head.

“Good,” she said sincerely. “Alright, so you work for me now.”

“I do?” he blinked.

“Yep, I talked to the Captain, it’s all arranged,” she told him. “Which means you can stay out of the refugee quarters.”

“Oh…” He realized she’d probably pulled a few strings to obtain that favor. “Thank you,” he said.

“No problem,” she shrugged, brushing it off. “We don’t have any extra rooms but we’ll get you your own bed in here and you can just stay with me. Is that ok with you?” she asked.

Yana smiled at her gratefully, relieved. “Yes, please.”

She beamed at him. “Good, all settled then.” She tossed a clean towel to him. “Go take a shower and we’ll get some breakfast. Lots of work to do today.”

Yana nodded eagerly, remembering the navigation. “Right.”

Things were starting to make a little more sense on this first morning of his new life.

He’d focus on the future.

He’d fill his days with work to help Brynne and the others on the ship.

Maybe that would make the voices go away…

And he had asked Brynne the night before who he should be. If he could be anyone now, he knew who he’d choose.

The man from his dream. The kind, brilliant, patient man.

That man was the opposite of what the voices were.

Yana would be like  _ that _ .

And if he was good enough, maybe he could make up for whatever it was he had done, whatever he had forgotten.

Then maybe whoever had left him behind would come back for him...

Someday.

He would wait.

Until then, there was work to be done.

_ The End _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I'm very sorry!!
> 
> Also...  
Please read this Yana fic I found. It's short but really superb:  
**The Man In Black**  
https://archiveofourown.org/works/187664  
by aralias


End file.
